Chapter Eleven
LEON
The rest of the day turned into running. Long-distance, steady, and brutal. The scent in Leon’s nostrils grew stronger with every mile, sweat and a sour tang he couldn’t quite identify.
They found the spot where the interlopers had camped the previous night—a place of flattened grass, a fire ring, and more trash. Karl shifted and began gathering the litter like he was on a goddamn conservation patrol.
Leon growled impatiently, and when that didn’t work, he shifted to make his feelings known. “Really? Maybe you want to separate the recycling while you’re at it. You do know we’re on the clock, right?”
Karl ignored him, shifting between forms to dig a hole, then laying the debris in it, and covering it neatly with soil, topped off with a handy rock.
Leon narrowed his eyes, not sure what irritated him more—how much time they were wasting, or how completely Karl ignored him. “You always this persnickety or is this another wolf thing?”
Karl didn’t rise to the bait. “I don’t want wildlife choking on plastic.” He flicked his gaze to Leon’s, very briefly. “And when Jesse comes out here once everything’s clear, he doesn’t need a reminder that strangers were here, watching him.”
Damn it, the wolf was right again. He was right so often it was rapidly becoming the most annoying thing about him, and the competition wasn’t exactly thin.
Leon pressed his lips together and nodded once, and Karl gave him a long, unreadable look before shifting again and loping off.
* * *
Leon was itching to catch up with their quarry because, as the miles passed, he realized how determined the people they were following must be.
From what Karl had said of the logging road’s location, it was a three-day hike, or six days in total, there and back.
It wasn’t something done for the fun of it.
And then he rolled his eyes because that was pretty much the definition of hiking.
But it worried him that they’d gone to these lengths.
They obviously had a purpose. Counterbalancing the worry was the suspicion that the people they were tracking were incompetent.
Not only had they taken the easy route, but their trail was erratic, with backtrackings and detours that made no sense.
Almost as if they didn’t know the terrain, or they had a really crappy GPS.
The uncertainty about what they would find at the end of their hunt had him on edge.
It didn’t help settle him that the wolf’s gait was both too fast and too slow for him to run alongside comfortably.
Cats were built for slower movements interspersed with bursts of blinding speed, not for this exhausting, relentless, ground-covering lope.
But he was determined, and he pushed his body, ignoring the complaints from his abused muscles.
He just hated that Karl made it look effortless, like a storm rolling forward, inevitable and unstoppable.
Things changed when they reached a swift-flowing river and ended up running beside it for a few miles.
It meant that, every so often, he could stop to take a drink before bounding to catch up with Karl.
It was a much more natural way for him to move, and the excuse of pausing for a drink meant that he didn’t look weak.
* * *
When Karl finally stopped, dusk was creeping in, the temperature plummeting as daylight faded. Leon shifted and stayed crouched low, his whole body trembling as he caught his breath, cursing every aching muscle.
Karl looked the same as always—grim and unflinching—but something in the way he stood, not quite meeting Leon’s eyes, made Leon think of wires stretched too tight.
“They won’t make the road tonight,” Karl said. “We’ll rest here. Food, sleep, out at dawn.”
Leon nodded, staying in his crouch until he stopped shaking. Which he would anytime soon. He hoped. “You got another of those lockers hidden up your sleeve?”
His non-existent sleeve, and Leon was not going to notice how Karl looked naked.
Absolutely not. Not for an instant was he looking at those long limbs, curved with muscle, or the breadth of his chest. Or the trail of dark hair arrowing down his stomach like a goddamn invitation.
Leon was at the perfect height to notice the heavy line of Karl’s cock, soft but thick enough to make Leon’s mouth dry. Not that he was looking. Obviously.
Karl didn’t dignify his question with a reply, instead turning and moving toward a cluster of trees. Leon followed, mostly upright.
The cache was another well-hidden miracle, containing ponchos, protein bars, waterproofs, even sweatshirts. Leon yanked one on gratefully.
“You running a side hustle up here?” he asked.
“Preparedness isn’t optional.”
“That sounds like a cheap motivational poster.”
Karl gave him a dirty look, but it didn’t stop him tossing Leon a water bottle, an MRE and a folded emergency blanket, which Leon promptly unfolded and laid out while the MRE was heating.
The label said it was chicken, but the lumps of something in the gravy didn’t work the way chicken should. Still, the food was hot and filled the hole where Leon’s stomach used to be, before it ate itself from hunger.
Once finished, he glanced sideways to where Karl sat a few yards away, staring into the gathering dark.
His body was tense, still, shoulders hunched just enough to look like either tiredness or defeat.
Neither of which suited Karl, and neither of which went with the wolf he’d gotten to know so far.
Leon didn’t like that look on him, and he didn’t know why.
Maybe Karl felt his gaze because, while he didn’t look at Leon, he spoke for the first time in five minutes. “Don’t get close to me while I’m sleeping. And don’t touch me to wake me. Not unless you want a broken wrist.”
Leon blinked. “Okay.” He watched Karl as he thought about his words, remembering what Karl had said earlier, about serving. If someone with Karl’s build and abilities got lost in nightmares… Leon could hold his own against anyone, but he’d rather not put it to the test with Karl.
“Because of your service?” he asked.
Karl didn’t answer at first. Just rubbed a hand over his face, weariness leaking through the cracks in his self-control.
Leon didn’t press. He went back to scraping the last traces of food out of his pouch.
Eventually, Karl said, “Thought I was done with it, but the choppers, the threats, everything with Jesse... it’s stirred it up again.”
“Flashbacks?” He wasn’t being nosy—he needed to know what he might be dealing with.
“No. Just, when I’m half-asleep, I sometimes forget where I am. Doesn’t last long, but it’s enough.”
Leon nodded slowly. “My grandpa didn’t sleep right either. Different war, same ghosts.”
Karl didn’t reply, but his posture shifted fractionally. Almost, Leon thought fancifully, as if the weight of ghosts was no longer only his to carry. If his understanding had helped, well, he wouldn’t begrudge the wolf that.
“It’s not a problem,” he said. “I’ll keep clear.”
He meant it to sound brisk and professional, but it came out quieter than he expected. Almost… reassuring?
Karl looked at him then, what little light was left illuminating his face in a way a photographer would pay a fortune to achieve. And Leon felt a weird twist in his gut, because for once the wolf didn’t look disapproving. He looked tired. Human, even.
They fell quiet again, the woods around them hushed, the air growing ever colder as the daylight disappeared.
Leon pulled an emergency blanket around his shoulders and stared into the darkness under the trees.
There was no danger there he could detect, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there.
He knew better than most how fast everything could change—how safety could vanish in a breath, how it had been an ordinary day when he’d been set adrift, alone and confused.
It could happen again, any time. All it took was one moment. That was why he stayed alert. Always.
“You sleep first,” Karl said at last.
Leon didn’t answer right away. His instinct was to argue, to insist he’d take the first watch, stay sharp, stay ready.
But Karl was already watching the woods, his whole body poised. Leon recognized the stillness of a predator.
“All right,” he said at last. “Wake me if anything moves out there.”
Karl just nodded.
He shifted, letting the cat take over, fur sliding over skin—a blanket he didn’t have to carry. He curled up, tail coiled tight to retain as much warmth as possible, muscles aching from the day’s exertion. He wouldn’t sleep deeply, because that would mean trusting Karl to keep watch.
But the steady, immovable presence of the wolf beside him, silent and sharp-eyed in the dark, was enough to let go. Just for a while.
KARL
Karl kept watch through most of the night. It wasn’t personal—he didn’t trust anyone outside the pack. He knew Leon was competent and attuned to danger in the same way he was. But he didn’t know how Leon responded under pressure, whether he’d act as a shield or a weapon. And trust had to be earned.
He’d given his trust freely once, had followed an order he should have refused, and people under his command had paid the price. That wasn’t something to be forgotten or forgiven. Not in others, and especially not in himself.
So now, his trust was reserved for members of his pack.
People who had proved themselves, time and again, to be worthy of it.
It had taken him a long time to trust Matt enough to accept his leadership.
Not because Matt hadn’t earned it—he had—but because Karl hadn’t known if he could let go of the reins.
Of the need to control everything around him, to make sure no one else got hurt on his watch.